Four Times Lee Adama Almost Died
by Helen C
Summary: See title. A series of four unrelated, unashamedly HC, AU ficlets.
1. Part 1

**Title** : Four Times Lee Adama Almost (But Not Quite) Died

**Author** : Helen C.

**Rating** : PG-13

**Summary** : See title. A series of four unrelated, unashamedly H/C, AU ficlets.

**Disclaimer** : The characters and the universe were created and are owned by Ronald D. Moore and Universal Television Studios to name but a few. No money is being made. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**AN** Many thanks to Mick1997 for beta'ing this! As often happens, I tinkered—all remaining mistakes are mine.

* * *

**Four Times Lee Adama Almost (But Not Quite) Died**

Helen C.

_Time #1  
_

_The cold water was making his arms and legs numb and heavy, and Lee tried to gather his strength. Now wasn't the time to stop fighting. _

_He could do this._

_He_had_ to do this._

_"Lee!"_

_The sound of his brother's voice, panicked and breathless, spurred him forward. He swam even harder, furiously trying to get nearer. Zak was being dragged away from him by the current and he needed to get to him soon. If he didn't…_

_He took another staggering breath, gulping down some seawater in the process, and forced his limbs to move. Inch by inch, he was getting nearer. He looked at Zak, saw his pleading face, and used it as fuel to go on._

_He couldn't let his brother down._

_He couldn't just allow him to drown, a mere few feet from him._

_He had to be stronger than the ocean, because if he wasn't… Well, the price to pay for failure would just be too high._

_Lee's clothes were sticking to his skin, hampering his movements, and he inwardly cursed himself. He should have gotten rid of his pants before he ran into the water after his brother, but he hadn't taken the time to think._

_Their mother had been very clear. _You need to look after him, Lee. He's younger than you are, he's your responsibility.

_But Lee had been distracted by his friends, and he had started playing with them, and then someone had screamed and he had looked and Zak had been waving, in the water, clearly in trouble._

_"Lee!" Zak's voice was strained. How much longer would he manage to keep his head above the water? He wasn't a very good swimmer yet—he wasn't supposed to swim without supervision, but Lee had been busy and Zak always tried not to bother him when he was with his friends. _

_That was one of the great things about Zak. He knew when Lee didn't want him underfoot and now he was going to die, and Lee just _couldn't_ swim fast enough, and where the frak were the lifeguards anyway?_

_"Lee!"_

_He didn't have any breath to spare to reply; he could barely keep going, dizzy with fatigue and pain. No matter how hard he tried, he felt like he was swimming in place._

_Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to keep moving, praying that he was wrong, that Zak wasn't being dragged even farther away from him._

_He was not going to let his kid brother die in front of him, not because of his own stupid inattention, and certainly not because he hadn't been able to swim fast enough, or long enough._

_He was stronger than that._

_He was an Adama, and so was Zak, and if there was one thing their father had taught them, it was that Adamas succeeded, no matter what._

_"Lee!"_

_"Hang on!" he managed to gasp, and he started coughing as seawater invaded his mouth, taking him by surprise. Forcing his uncooperative arms to move, he went on a little bit farther._

_Then, he froze as Zak just… disappeared, his hands trying to grab something that wasn't there before vanishing under the water as well, as if someone had grabbed his feet and pulled him down. _

_"Zak!" Lee stopped, looking ahead frantically, but the spot where his brother had gone under remained empty. "Zak! ZAK!"_

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"I think he's been drugged, Sir," Sykes said.

Gunny Mathias rolled her eyes but didn't reply. The fact that Apollo had been drugged was fairly obvious—a broken syringe a few inches from where he was lying on the floor, and the way he was curled up on himself, hands tied behind his back, shivering and calling his dead brother's name, were dead giveaways as to what had happened. Crouching down next to the Captain, she reached out to take his pulse, grimacing at how cold his skin was under her fingers.

Damn.

She checked for signs of head injury, couldn't see anything obvious, so she undid the first two buttons of the Captain's jacket, hoping it would make him more comfortable, then gestured at Sykes. "Untie his hands, will you?"

He nodded and kneeled next to her, cutting off the bonds, then helped Erin to roll Apollo on his back. He breathed in sharply at the sight of the bruises on the Captain's face and neck. Erin thought she heard him mutter, "Bastards," but she was already busy checking that the captain didn't have any obvious broken bones. She lifted off Apollo's uniform jacket and his tops, frowning at the black bruises forming on his chest. The last thing the man needed were broken ribs. Thankfully, when she prodded the area, she couldn't find anything that gave. Cracked, maybe, but not broken. Good, it was going to make their life a little easier.

She turned to Sykes. "Call Galactica," she ordered. "Tell them we're bringing in a medical emergency. Bring Griggs back with you, and a stretcher."

Sykes nodded smartly and took off without comment. Erin checked the Captain's pulse again, relieved that it wasn't any faster than a few minutes earlier. That was something at least. Still, Apollo's skin was too cold and he hadn't shown any sign that he was aware of what was happening around him. It was impossible to tell what kind of drugs he had been given, or how much, but since whoever was behind the attack had left him here, Erin had to assume that it had been too much.

Lips set in a thin line, she thought about her next course of action. First, get the Captain to sickbay. Then, come back with reinforcements and a team of MPs, start asking questions and find whoever the hell had done this, and then… Well, then, hopefully, she'd get to see the Old Man take them apart with his bare hands—a feat she was reasonably sure he was capable of.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_"Come on, bro, you gotta admit, it was funny."_

_Lee tried to ignore his brother, but the damn twerp didn't make it easy._

_"I would have loved to see the look on your face…" Zak chuckled._

_Lee felt his cheeks heat up. "One day," he said half-heartedly, "Mom is going to walk in on you and we'll see how you like that." Even threatening his brother didn't make him feel better, though. Their mother had been drunk when she had surprised him, and she was a mean drunk—and growing meaner by the year._

_"Never gonna happen," Zak stated, smiling confidently. "I know enough to lock the door when I'm… busy."_

_Lee grimaced. "Not an image I wanted to carry around," he mumbled. _

_Zak wasn't finished. "Honestly, Lee, ever heard about keys?"_

_Lee stopped walking and glared at Zak. "Yes, I have. And she wasn't supposed to come home for hours, damn it!" But then, their mother was making herself scarce at work these days. They probably frowned upon their employees drinking a whole bottle through the afternoon. Lee almost hoped she'd get fired, because that might get his father's attention. _

_Catching his own thoughts, he shook his head. At this point, would _anything_ ever get his father's attention?_

Zak totally lost it, the sound of his laughter bringing Lee back to the present. He sighed and resigned himself. He was just going to have to suck it up and wait for his brother to run out of steam. Knowing Zak, it might take a while.

_When Zak seemed sufficiently recovered, Lee started trekking again, his brother following a few steps behind him, still snickering. Damn him._

_And damn their mother for coming home early. At least Zak hadn't been around to witness that. Their mother was usually careful of how she talked to him when they had an audience, but wasted as she had been, it was possible she wouldn't have noticed._

_Ah, well, if the price of this little incident was that Lee never jerked off _ever_ again, well, the world would survive, right?_

_Right._

_It would._

_Probably._

_Zak fell silent as the slope grew steeper, sometimes cursing under his breath as a tree root hidden under the leaves made him trip._

_The whole outing had been his idea—one that Lee had gratefully accepted, since their mother seemed to have a new man in her life, and Lee couldn't stand that frakker. Their mother hadn't tried to protest when they had asked her permission to go. Lee had sensed she was relieved not to have them underfoot for the weekend._

A win-win situation_, he told himself, and his inner voice wasn't quite bitter. Not quite._

A weekend of trekking into the mountains, camping, and generally forgetting all about their parents and the upcoming finals at school, seemed like paradise—even if he had to endure Zak's teasing.

_It took them the better part of the day to reach their goal, but finally, the mountain road gave way to a clearing—their chosen camping spot, not far from the mountain side. Fifty meters to the left, the sheer headland allowed them to see the city, far below in the distance. The sun was starting to set and the whole city was drowned in yellow and orange. _

_They both sat down near the edge and enjoyed the breathtaking view in silence, content to enjoy the peace and quiet._

_Things at home were growing less and less quiet, these days. The tensions between Lee and their mother made Zak uneasy, and he tried to get between them to defuse the situation too often for Lee's taste. He appreciated his brother's support but he didn't want Zak involved in the ugly little war he was waging against their mother—and against their father as well, truth be told. He was supposed to protect Zak, not the other way around._

_"Guess we should go start a fire," Zak said when the light started to dim, and the wind grew colder._

_"Guess so." Lee had never felt so reluctant to move, but Zak was right. They needed to set up camp before night fell completely. It would be too dark to search for wood soon._

_Lee got to his feet._

_Zak followed suit._

_They both walked closer to the edge to take in the view one last time, enjoying the way the lights of the city switched on, little by little._

_As he was turning back to head to the clearing, a rock under Lee's foot gave way under his weight, and he felt himself slide before he could grab anything solid._

_"Lee!"_

_He slid down, grimacing as the hard rock tore at his clothes and grazed his skin. He managed to catch the tip of a rock before his whole body tumbled into the void, and cursed when the rock cut at his fingers._

_"Lee!"_

_"Zak," he called, heart beating hard and fast in his chest. He barely dared to raise his voice. _

_Zak's hand appeared in his line of sight. "Don't look down," his brother ordered. _

_Why did people always say that? Lee wondered. He hadn't even _thought_ about looking down until his brother told him not to._

_His fingers were starting to cramp and Lee fumbled around to find something else to hang on to._

_"Lee!" Zak's fingers closed around his wrist, let go, fumbled some more before latching at him again. _

_Zak caught him just as Lee lost his grip with a startled gasp. "Frak, Lee, hang on," Zak yelled as he took a firmer hold of his wrist._

_"Trying," Lee said, but he could feel the tension in Zak's arm and hand. He was taller and heavier than Zak. There was no way his brother was going to be able to pull him back to safety. _

_Fighting the feeling of panic, Lee grabbed a few rocks, ineffectively dislodging some of them._

_Then, he felt his wrist slip out of Zak's hold._

_He looked up to his brother, who shouted, "Lee!"_

_Lee screamed as he fell, closing his eyes and waiting for the impact._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The nurse assisting Cottle startled when Apollo started to scream, but to her credit, she recovered fast. _Good_, Cottle thought. Maybe this one would prove competent in the long run.

Their patient didn't have the strength left to struggle much, but his head was rolling from side to side as he called for Zak. He tried to lift an arm and the nurse instinctively reached out to steady him, preventing him from tearing his IV out.

Apollo's heartbeat started to quicken, getting uncomfortably close to the alarm range.

"Prepare the restraints, just in case," Cottle said. "How are these analyses coming?"

As if on cue, a paper materialized in front of his eyes. He took it impatiently, not bothering to see who was bringing it, and swore under his breath when he saw the result. "Okay, prepare the atropine and get ready. We need to pump his stomach."

The nurse obeyed without a word as Cottle gave the results another once over, making sure he hadn't missed anything. Apollo was still shifting around slowly, muttering under his breath, too low to make out the words.

Given what he had been injected with, he must be hallucinating pretty badly.

"Get the commander on the line," Cottle threw over his shoulder, not really caring who did it as long as it was done. "Tell him I have some news for him."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_The stifling heat was making his skin hurt and Lee shifted around restlessly, trying to find a comfortable position. The sheets clung to his sweaty body, itching. He tried to pull them off but small hands stopped him._

_He felt someone slide a straw between his lips and drank gratefully, the water bliss on his parched throat. He managed to open his eyes to half-slits, spotting his brother near his bed. _

_"Lee?" Zak looked too worried for an eight-year-old, his eyes too big for his face. "Mom and Dad are talking to the doctors. They told me to wait here."_

_Lee tried to look the other way, but the pain in his neck made him whimper softly._

_"Lee?" _

_The pain faded after a few moments and he managed a tired smile. "I'm fine," he said, hoping it would reassure his brother._

_Zak nodded gravely. "Mom and Dad say you're sick but you're going to be all right. Mom's crying. Dad looks angry."_

_"Dad's here?" Lee asked, fighting a yawn. He felt like he had slept for days, but couldn't manage to get more alert than he was—which wasn't much._

_"Yeah, he talked to you." Zak looked at him, looking scared again. "You don't remember?"_

_Lee almost said no, but then a figment of memory came back to him—his father leaning down over him, pushing the hair back from his forehead, whispering that everything was going to be fine, that his family was here with him, that the doctors were taking good care of him, that he had to rest, that he would be home soon._

_"I thought it was a dream," he whispered sleepily. Their father was supposed to be away for another three months, wasn't he? What was he doing here?_

_"You're sick," Zak threw in, and Lee realized he had asked the question out loud. Weird, he hadn't meant to do that. "So, he came back."_

Must be bad, then_, Lee thought. He should have felt scared, but he just felt tired, so tired he couldn't even keep his eyes open anymore._

_He felt Zak shake his arm. "Lee?" The fear in his brother's voice gave him enough strength to look at him again._

_"It's okay," he said. Then, he frowned. When had Zak gotten so big?_

_"You're going to be fine, bro." Zak was wearing his flight suit and Lee reached out to him, trying to pull him closer. _

Be careful_, he tried to say. _Don't get into flight school. Don't try to prove to Dad or to me that you're a pilot too.

Don't die.

_All that came out of his mouth was a groan. _

_Zak took his hand, squeezed it softly. "You're going to be fine, Lee."_

_"Don't leave," Lee managed to say, then he allowed himself to drift to sleep._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Zak?"

Bill looked up from the report he was reading, surprised at the sound of his son's voice. He hadn't expected him to wake up for another few hours at best.

"Lee?" he called, putting the report aside.

Lee opened his eyes and looked in his direction, a confused frown settling in. "Zak?"

Bill tried not to panic at Lee's obvious disorientation, but he only moderately succeeded. Cottle had warned him that it was likely to happen, but knowing it was possible and seeing it were two different things. "No, son, it's me," he said, hoping his voice would help bring his son from wherever he was.

As if on cue, Cottle stepped into the cubicle, and Adama thought that once upon a time, he would have been aware that the doctor had been lurking around.

"Captain?" Cottle called, ignoring Bill and focusing on his patient. "Can you hear me?"

His voice was stern, unyielding, and Lee turned his head in his direction. "What?" he mumbled.

"Captain?" Cottle placed a hand on Lee's arm, probably to draw his attention to him, Adama surmised. "Can you tell me your name, rank and posting?"

Lee swallowed a few times before articulating, as if he had to think about each word, "Lee Adama, Captain, CAG, Galactica."

"Good," Cottle said. He gestured at Adama to leave and took out a pen light from his pocket. "I need you to focus on the light, Captain." He shot another look at Adama, more insistently this time. Bill took the hint and left him to work, relieved that his son seemed at least vaguely aware. He needed all his willpower not to pace outside of the room, waiting for Cottle to emerge with news.

Ten minutes went by before Cottle arrived, looking slightly less gruff than usual. "Well, apparently he survived with his brain pretty much intact. Considering that whoever did this to him didn't intend for him to survive, I'd say it's a good night."

Sometimes, Adama wished the doctor was a little less blunt, especially considering that he had just finished reading the Marines' report. The image of his son, beaten and bound, calling out for Zak, was one he could have lived without. "He asked for his brother when he woke up," he said.

Cottle seemed to hear the implied, "Are you sure he's fine?" and took a cigarette out of his pocket, but didn't light it. "Yes, well, he must have been hallucinating pretty badly. But he recognized me, he recognized his surroundings, he remembers his day up to the point where he was attacked, and he knows what year it is. He's still a little out of it, but that's to be expected, considering."

Adama nodded grimly. Lee had been sent to investigate on several threats of sabotage that had made their way to the President's office. Apparently, he had found the men behind them. Thankfully, Saul hadn't hesitated to send the Marines when Lee had failed to report at the assigned time of his check-in.

It had been a close call. If the Marines had arrived even half an hour later…

Bill shook the thought. The Marines had gotten there in time, his son had survived and was still himself. That was all he needed to think about.

"Can I see him?"

Cottle shrugged, eyeing his cigarette, as if trying to decide whether or not he should smoke it or keep it for later. Cigarettes were one of the many things left on short supply in the Fleet. "Don't expect him to be awake."

"I don't care."

Cottle gestured for him to go ahead, then sighed and pocketed the cigarette once more.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lee's head was pounding, and he felt like he had taken the thrashing of his life, but he was mostly coherent again, which was progress. Cottle had assured him that the drugs he had been given hadn't turned his brain to mush, and he was grateful for that small favor.

His neck hurt where they had stuck him with the needle—twice, because he had struggled hard enough to break the first one.

Damn, but he really wanted five minutes alone with the bastards who had done that to him.

"They caught two of the men we think attacked you," his father said by way of greeting when he entered the room.

Lee nodded at him. "Good," he said. He realized he was clenching his fists and forced himself to relax them. It would be another few days before Cottle released him—but then, he promised himself, he would spend some quality time in the gym, pounding the hell out of a punching bag.

"Did you get a good look at them?" his father asked carefully.

Lee nodded, feeling his anger rise another notch. "They didn't try to hide their faces." _Since they didn't expect me to walk away from this._

His father's jaw clenched. "Well." He met Lee's gaze. "Seems like they're toast now."

Lee almost smiled. "Yeah." He didn't remember exactly what had happened the night he had been attacked—only a few flashes here and there. The way his father treated him, almost as if he had never seen him before, was telling. He must have been pretty stoned, but he didn't dare ask what he had said (if anything) while drugged, and no one was volunteering any information.

"Did the men tell you who else was in it with them?" he asked.

His father took a seat, shaking his head. "Not yet. They will."

Lee didn't doubt that. He knew the Marines were very efficient when they were annoyed.

"Try to rest," his father said, making no move to go anywhere.

Rest sounded like the best idea ever and Lee felt his eyes starting to drift shut. "Yeah," he said.

He vaguely remembered dreaming about Zak—strange, disconnected memories intermingled with nightmares. For some reason, he even thought he could feel his brother's presence as he sank into oblivion, but that was stupid. Zak was long gone, no matter how much the thought still hurt, even after all this time.

The last thing he was aware of was his father's hand closing on his own and he savored the warmth of the connection.

* * *

end 


	2. Part 2

**Title** : Four Times Lee Adama Almost (But Not Quite) Died

**Author** : Helen C.

**Rating** : PG-13

**Summary** : See title. A series of four unrelated, unashamedly H/C, AU ficlets.

**Disclaimer** : The characters and the universe were created and are owned by Ronald D. Moore and Universal Television Studios to name but a few. No money is being made. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**AN** Many thanks to Mick1997 for beta'ing this! As often happens, I tinkered—all remaining mistakes are mine.

* * *

_Time #2  
_

_Hour 4_

"What do you think is the worst possible way to die?"

Lee stared at Racetrack, incredulous, but she was gazing at a point far away in space, carefully avoiding eye contact. "Is this really how you want to pass the time?" he asked when she didn't speak again.

She turned to him, then. Her face was pale in the light given out by her helmet, and the fear was plain in her eyes.

Well, she had reason to be afraid. Hell, he was downright terrified and only stubbornness and pride were keeping his voice steady, were keeping his hands from shaking.

She shrugged. "Why not?"

Lee chuckled despite himself. Their Raptor had crashed on an asteroid, in an _enormous_ asteroid field, all the oxygen had leaked out while they were unconscious, leaving them only with what little reserves were contained in their flight suits, and oh, yes, the Cylon attack that had landed them here had also forced the Fleet to jump away.

They were frakked in every possible way, so, yes, why not talk about gruesome ways to die?

"You first," he said.

He heard her sharp intake of breath, then a hesitant, "I'm not sure… I think… My mom got cancer when I was a kid. She died, but it took years."

Lee refrained from grimacing, thinking back about the President when she had been more dead than alive. She had survived, but Lee sometimes wondered when she'd have to pay the price for that.

"Okay," he said softly. At least Racetrack may not suffer that particular fate. If the Fleet didn't come back before their air supply ran out… Well, he and Racetrack, at least, would finally be allowed to stop fighting. The thought wasn't as comforting as it would have been back when the Cylons still attacked every thirty-three minutes and death was the only possible way out—the only respite from the constant fighting, the only way to get some rest at last.

He shook himself. Those exhausting, terrifying days were yet another thing he'd rather not dwell on, especially now.

"What's yours, Apollo?" she asked, her tone making it clear she wasn't sure whether or not she was crossing a line.

Lee tried to look out into space, at the asteroids around them, but there wasn't enough light to really make them out. "Burning alive," he said eventually, not looking at her. He knew that if he didn't elaborate, the discussion would stop and Racetrack wouldn't ask any other question but what was strictly necessary, so he added, "There was an accident when I was in flight school. One of the cadets got stuck in the cockpit. By the time the rescue teams got there, the whole thing was burning. He hadn't turned off his comm."

Silence fell in the Raptor again.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_Hour 7_

Racetrack started talking again just as Lee was starting to doze off. _Might be a good idea to sleep for good, eventually_, he thought. They'd use less oxygen that way and it wasn't like there was much of anything they could do while awake, except freak out in the dark and count down the hours before their oxygen supply ran out. Everything on the Raptor seemed to have died in the crash—the electric connections severed, either by the landing or by whatever had hit them in the first place. They had nothing to do but sit and wait and hope that rescue would come before it was too late. Lee wasn't far from thinking he'd rather have died in an explosion (quick and clean, instead of this endless waiting).

"Apollo?" Racetrack insisted.

He racked his brain to remember what she had asked and resisted the urge to sigh when it came back to him. "Do you think they'll find us?"

Did Lee think the rescue team would find them? That depended on whether or not one of the other pilots had been able to spot them when they were going down, which would at least narrow the field of the SAR mission. He didn't know whether or not their automatic distress beacon was emitting. The way their luck was going, his money was on no.

Did he think the Galactica would come back for them at all? That was another question entirely.

_"If it was you out there, we'd never leave."_

It was reassuring to remember that promise now, but Lee was enough of a pragmatist to realize that it had been made more out of necessity than anything else. He didn't doubt his father would do anything to bring him back, but his Commander was another story. If there was no safe way to do it… well, that would be it. Lee didn't want to die here and now, but he didn't want anyone else to die to save his sorry ass either.

Racetrack didn't need to know that, though.

"They'll come back," he said, willing his voice to be convincing.

After all, it wasn't really a lie. Chances were good that a rescue mission would be sent for them.

Racetrack snorted. "Well, I guess I'm lucky. I'm stranded with the Commander's son. If he comes for anyone..."

Lee frowned. Was this really what people thought?

Racetrack was biting her lower lip when he turned to look at her, obviously nervous, but she met his gaze without a word.

"He considers all of his crew his family," Lee said. A fact that had caused countless arguments and tensions in the Adama household, even long before Lee grew resentful and bitter of the fact that his father always chose his career over his family.

"We know that," she said. "But…"

But his father had let Kara go, when she had crashed. Would he do the same thing now that his son was concerned? Lee hoped neither of them would have to find out.

It could have been worse, he reminded himself. He and Racetrack had been flying back from Cloud Nine when the Cylons had attacked. The only reason why they had even been wearing their flight suits was because the Fleet was still on alert after the last few attacks. If they had been in uniform, they wouldn't have awoken at all.

It could have been worse but telling himself that didn't make the situation any less scary.

"Sir?" Racetrack called.

He replied absently, "Yeah," wondering if maybe they should keep silent to save oxygen. The prospect of having to sit in total silence, however, with only the sound of his own breathing for company, was enough to make him consider getting his gun out and—

"So, did you hear that rumor about Doctor Baltar?" he asked, his heart beating a little faster than it should. He didn't miss the relief is Racetrack's voice when she replied.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_Hour 11_

"What's your most embarrassing memory, Apollo?"

"You must have been hell on car drives," Lee said, without bite.

She smiled at him, her face drawn despite the mischievous glint in her eyes. "Yup." She stared at him, her challenging look reminding him eerily of Starbuck. Kara was such a bad influence on the other pilots. "We're going to die anyway," she pointed out. He had to hand it to her; her voice barely shook.

He shook his head. "Gallows humor, now? I would have thought you'd wait at least another five hours before coming to this."

"What can I say?" She shifted in her seat, grimacing. "Patience has never been my strong suit."

"How's your leg?" he asked, stalling.

"Still broken. How's your side?"

"Still painful." And growing increasingly so. At best, he was pretty bruised up. At worst… the words internal bleeding came to mind, but he pushed the thought away. There was nothing he could do about it, and thinking about what was wrong with him would only make everything seem worse.

___Hurry up_, he thought. He didn't even know who he was sending this prayer to—Kara? His father? The gods? He almost laughed at the thought. Apparently, facing death didn't make him any more of a believer.

He shared a look with Racetrack and shrugged. "Fine. My most embarrassing memory." The sad fact was, there were many to choose from, and some of them, Racetrack would never know. He was still her superior officer, and if they survived this, they'd need to work together again.

"It was an official party," he said at last. "Dress uniforms, admirals everywhere, admirals'_wives_everywhere."

She cut in, her voice shaking with repressed laughter, "Oh, this is going to be good."

He scowled at her. "Remember that when we're back on the Galactica, I can make your life miserable."

She mock saluted and he smiled, relieved that she looked less vulnerable than a few moments earlier. He liked his pilots brash and cocky and smart-assed.

He went on, mostly to get it over with. "I got into an elevator with one of the wives. There was a power outage. The cabin got stuck." He looked at her, grimacing. "And now would be a good time to admit that she was pregnant. Very much so."

Racetrack started to laugh, softly at first, then increasingly loudly. Lee joined her after a moment, gasping with pain when the laughter pulled at his bruises.

Racetrack got herself under control long enough to ask, "Did they find you before she had to…?"

He bit back a chuckle. "No."

She started to laugh again.

"It went really fast," Lee added. "I spent the last half hour being insulted—that woman had a mouth on her—and being yelled at by the admiral, who was on the emergency phone with a doctor." Back then, it had seemed like the worst night of his life.

Racetrack reached over and patted him on the arm. "Okay. I'm sure it wasn't the most embarrassing moment of your life, but it must come close."

He shrugged good naturedly. "Your turn."

She thought for a moment before saying, "You know when people say that they were so drunk they danced naked on the bar?"

Lee nodded, smiling despite himself. He had the feeling he knew where this was going.

"You know how it's often a gross exaggeration?"

"Yes."

"Well, in my case, not so much." She groaned at the thought. "And even worse, there were pictures."

Lee smiled at her compassionately. He had to admit, that had to suck almost as much as his own experience.

"So, will you still respect me in the morning, Sir?" Racetrack asked, smiling.

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

_Hour 16_

"What do you miss the most?" Lee asked. "From before."

Racetrack didn't seem surprised that for once, he was the one starting the discussion. He was beginning to have a hard time focusing, and the pain was growing worse. And since they were basically strapped to their seats, in a vacuum, they had no way to inject themselves with anything to relieve the pain.

"I don't know…" She trailed off, lost in her memories. Lee had noticed that she, too, was growing quieter. She was also starting to have trouble following an idea to its end and that worried him even more. "Lots of things. Being on a planet, for one."

Lee nodded. "I know what you mean. Things were difficult on Kobol, for many reasons, but it was nice to breathe non-recycled air, and to feel the sun, and even the rain."

She smiled wistfully. "You're going to make me wish I'd been there," she said, her tone caustic.

"What else?" he pushed without acknowledging her comment.

"Chocolate," she said, without hesitation. "You?"

"Driving around during the summer, when the sun set and the light was just that shade of blue and orange over the ocean."

"My aunt's cooking. She was the best cook ever. Seriously."

"Books. I used to read a lot. There were novels I had started, and now unless I can find someone who read them too, I'll never know the end."

"The smell of cut grass in the summer," Racetrack said, inhaling deeply, as if she could just imagine it.

"Yeah," Lee said dreamily. "I liked that too."

Neither of them mentioned people.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_Hour 20_

"We can't sleep," Racetrack said. "When rescue comes, they'll try to contact us. We need to be awake to reply."

"I know," Lee said. He hated how weak his voice was getting. He was having trouble keeping his eyes open, and he was starting to wonder if rescue was ever going to come.

"Apollo?" Racetrack insisted. "Are you all right?"

___No_, he thought. He didn't think he had hit his head very hard in the crash—for the most part, the helmet seemed to have done its job—but it was pounding like hell. Maybe it was just because their oxygen was getting low? He hoped so. He'd probably have lost consciousness by now, if he had suffered a bad concussion.

"What did the apple say to the orange?" Racetrack asked.

The sheer incongruity of the question snapped Lee out of his thoughts. "What?"

"I said, what did the apple say to the orange?" Racetrack repeated.

Lee fought back a laugh. "Lieutenant, the situation isn't so dire that we have to resort to a contest of the worst jokes in history."

"I think it is, Sir." Damn she really was taking a page out of Starbuck's book, wasn't she? "So, what—"

The reply shot out before he could think about it. "She didn't say anything, apples don't talk." He shot a look at Racetrack, who seemed adequately impressed. Lee should really have forced his inner five-year-old to retreat back where he usually lived, tell her to find something else to pass the time, but what he ended up saying was, "What do you do with a dog that has no legs?"

After all, this couldn't be any worse than the "most embarrassing memory" discussion.

Racetrack looked so serious when she replied, "You take him out for a drag," that he couldn't bite back a smile.

The whole thing was ridiculous.

It was also helping him feel less dizzy and he couldn't help thinking that as long as they were up to joking, there was hope.

"So, to stay on the topic of dogs," Racetrack went on, "If your husband is yelling at you to open the front door, and your dog is barking at the back door, who do you let in first?"

"Hey!" Lee said. "That's supposed to be the wife, not the husband!" He didn't try very hard to sound offended and she shrugged off his comment easily.

"You keep telling yourself that. Sir."

"Do I have to answer that one?" Lee asked, aiming for petulant (and succeeding, if the way her eyes crinkled with laughter was any indication).

"I'll let it go this time," she said magnanimously.

"Big of you, Lieutenant." He briefly scanned his memory for another stupid joke, easily found one and said, "A guy says, 'My wife's an angel!'"

"Oh, so, you want revenge. And the second guy says, 'You're lucky, mine's still alive.'" Without allowing him time to regroup, she launched, "What did one math book say to the other?"

Lee smiled. Zak had loved that stupid one. "Boy, do we have a lot of problems." He paused for a moment. "Is it bad that I actually think that one's kind of funny?"

Racetrack snorted. "Yes." She hesitated a few seconds before asking, "How do you know all that stuff?"

"My brother bought a book. Two-hundred and fifty nine stupid jokes. He read them all to me." He smiled at the memory. Zak had loved driving him insane with that damn book. "Took him months. He kept cornering me and reading one, and then running away. I punched him more in those months than at any other point in my life."

Racetrack was laughing softly. "I can imagine."

Lee was about to ask her how she had learned them when she offered, "I had a kid sister."

They fell silent.

When Lee felt his eyelids start to droop again, he forced himself to speak. "Have you ever wondered where the jokes come from? Who thought them up first, I mean. It always seems to come from someone who knows someone who knew someone who knew that story."

He snapped his eyes open in time to see her shake her head resolutely. "No, we're not going to talk philosophy or history right now. So, Bob and Jack walk into a hotel. What does Bob tell Jack?"

Lee sighed. "That hurt." Softly, he added, "I'm in hell. Great."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_Hour 22_

"Apollo?"

Racetrack's voice was growing strained, and she was calling him increasingly often. He could almost hear her unspoken plea—___don't die first. Don't leave me here alone_.

"Yeah?" he said.

"Galactica sure is cutting it close."

She hadn't asked what would happen if the Galactica assumed their oxygen reserves were intact, assumed that the Raptor wasn't badly damaged and could support them for a while. What would have been the point? If the Galactica assumed that, they were going to die, and there was nothing they could do to change that.

"They'll come," Lee said, mostly to say something.

She didn't acknowledge the reassurance. "I'm… It would have sucked to die alone," she muttered.

"It's not over yet," Lee said, remembering the number of times it had been drilled into them; _as long as you're breathing, you have a fighting chance._ All his instructors had heavily insisted on this. Hell, he knew Kara had beat it into the nuggets every day of their training.

Racetrack smiled sadly. "What is there left to talk about? We talked about food, about sex, about home and about family. And let's not forget the bad jokes."

Lee considered that for a moment, trying to find something else to talk about. They needed something that wouldn't remind them too much of the situation they were in, so flying was out of the question. Suddenly, he smiled. "I know. Did you ever dream you were walking into the CIC totally naked?"

Racetrack's laughter was soothing in the dark.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

___Hour 25  
_

The gods (if they existed, and if they were at all interested in the fate of the human race) must have a weird sense of humor.

The alarm signaling the end of their oxygen supply started beeping about twenty seconds before Lee's comm. came to life. "Apollo, Starbuck. Do you copy, Apollo?"

He looked over at Racetrack just in time to see her eyes drifting shut. "About damn time," she muttered.

"Apollo, Starbuck. Lee, are you out here?"

He activated his comm. and whispered, "Yeah, we're here."

There was a nearly deafening whoop in his ears, then Kara said, the smile obvious in her voice, "What's your status?"

"Nothing works on board and we have no air left," Lee replied. He was starting to feel light-headed. The pull of sleep was almost irresistible, but he used what was left of his energy to force his eyes to remain open. He'd be damned if he let himself die this close to home.

Kara spoke again, a note of worry creeping in her voice. "Hang on, Apollo. We're almost there."

"I know." For lack of anything better to say, he asked, "So, how was your day?"

He heard an amused snort and a "Frakker."

"Nice to hear your voice too," he quipped.

He looked over at Racetrack, who looked both scared and elated. He reached out to her and felt her hand close around his.

"Hey, Starbuck," she said, "Bob and Jack walk into a hotel. What does Bob say to Jack?"

Lee snorted and squeezed Racetrack's hand tighter.

"You're insane," Kara said, and Lee had to smile at her disgusted voice. "And… Yes! I see you! We'll be there in three minutes, tops."

Lee closed his eyes, still smiling.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

___Hour 33_

Kara's voice was the first thing he heard when he woke up.

"Not only did he sit on his ass doing nothing for over a day, but then he slept for... how many hours has it been?"

Cottle's long-suffering tone was a testament as to how many times they had had that discussion already. "Eight hours. And considering the state he was in when he came in, I'm not surprised. He had lost a lot of blood."

"I wonder when..."

Lee spoke up before she could truly get started. "I'm awake."

"Lee!" she yelled, and he jerked his head away from her, grimacing.

The next few minutes were a blur of exasperated Cottle and apologetic Kara, and it was only when Racetrack called, from a bed somewhere to his right, "They've been at it for the last hour, Apollo. I miss the Raptor," that they both stopped.

"Lieutenant?" Lee called, avoiding to look up for fear of aggravating his headache.

"Sir?"

"How are you?"

"Good enough. You?"

He looked warily at Kara and Cottle, who were still glaring at each other, and said, "Kind of missing the Raptor too."

Kara scowled at them both. "Freaks," she said, spinning on her heels and stepping out, muttering under her breath.

The last thing Lee heard before he went back to sleep was Racetrack calling, "Hey, Starbuck, what lives at the bottom of the sea and shivers?"

* * *

end 


	3. Part 3

**Title** : Four Times Lee Adama Almost (But Not Quite) Died

**Author** : Helen C.

**Rating** : PG-13

**Summary** : See title. A series of four unrelated, unashamedly H/C, AU ficlets.

**Disclaimer** : The characters and the universe were created and are owned by Ronald D. Moore and Universal Television Studios to name but a few. No money is being made. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**AN** Many thanks to Mick1997 for beta'ing this! As often happens, I tinkered—all remaining mistakes are mine.

**Warning**: character death (no, not Lee).

* * *

_Time #3  
_

The bright lights overhead were spinning in and out of focus, making his head hurt, and that was the first thing that registered on Lee's consciousness—and the first sign he got that something wasn't right with him.

Light wasn't supposed to hurt that much.

His vision wasn't supposed to be so blurry.

The ceiling wasn't supposed to move on its own.

The sound wasn't supposed to be drowned out by the buzzing in his ears.

He remained totally motionless for a few heartbeats, or a few hours, waiting for… something—a sign, a memory, a clue as to what he was doing here, and why he felt like shit.

Eventually, he forced himself to face it; lying here like an idiot wasn't helping.

After another long beat, a thought started to emerge from the fog. _Analyze the situation. Analyze your resources, find out how you are._

It took an effort, but after a few tries, Lee managed to focus long enough on the sensations to take stock of how he felt.

He didn't like what he found.

His mouth was dry as hell and he grimaced when he swallowed, feeling like sandpaper was lining his throat.

He was cold. Very cold, now that he actually paid attention to it.

His head was pounding and his thoughts were strangely… disconnected. He had the disturbing feeling that he was usually sharper, quicker than this, but he couldn't remember how he was supposed to _think_.

Even more worrying was the fact that he could feel a warm and sticky pool of… something under his hands. With lazy, uncoordinated movements, he allowed his left hand to trail on the ground around him (his right hand didn't feel quite right, and he didn't think trying to use it would be a good idea), then raised his fingers until they entered his line of sight and studied the red coating them.

Blood.

He should probably feel more worried about that than he was, but he just couldn't summon the energy to be scared.

Then, the ceiling started to… distort was as close as he could come to describe it. The edges blurred, the lights started to spin dizzily and he closed his eyes, fighting back a wave of nausea.

He wouldn't have minded falling asleep, right about now, and waking up in a world where ceilings didn't do _that_, in a world where he wasn't lying in blood.

Something was nagging at him, though—the vague feeling that sleeping would be a bad idea, possibly a fatal one. He racked his brain for an explanation, and it dawned on him.

Shock.

He was losing blood, he felt cold and sleepy—he was going into shock. If he fell asleep, he was going to die.

His eyes snapped open of their own accord and he moaned when the light sent a sharp pain knifing through his brain.

He had to move now, while he still could—while he still had the strength to do it, while he was still lucid enough to realize how important it was that he did something.

Bracing himself, Lee slowly turned his head to the side. He had to close his eyes to ward off the sudden onslaught of pain at the motion. Frak.

Okay, so, whatever he did next was going to be hard and painful as hell.

Great.

When he opened his eyes again—how long had he spent bleeding, lying here, waiting? Too long?—the first thing he noticed was the red on the ground.

Then, he saw Kara's face, her open eyes staring blankly in his direction.

His breath caught in his throat as cold memories rushed back in.

He made an effort to consciously breathe—in and out, carefully, mindful of the pain that shot through his side.

"Kara," he whispered, uselessly.

She didn't move, didn't reply. Of course.

He closed his eyes against the sight of her. "Hey!" he called as loudly as he could. He breathed through the pain, waited until the worst of it had passed and tried again. "Anyone around?"

Nothing but silence. He sighed. Well, it had been worth a try.

He forced his eyes open, struggled to raise his head and looked down at himself. His shirt was covered with blood from his side to mid-thigh on the left, his right side felt very sore, his right hand was starting to throb badly, and he didn't like the way the room swam when he moved his head.

There seemed to be red everywhere on the floor. How much of it was his, and how much was Kara's?

Without dwelling on the question—he didn't want to know—he looked around, trying to find something that could help him. The only obvious solution he could spot was the phone near the hatch, on the far wall of the room.

Sighing, he lowered his head back to the ground.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_"How can you even say that?" Kara's laughter was infectious and even if it was at his expense, Lee found himself laughing along with her and Zak._

_"Easy," he teased once they regained their composure. "I open my mouth, articulate words, and here I am, saying, again, that what you call music is nothing but noise, and that classic is the way to go."_

_She shook her head, still chuckling. "Shame on you! For that reason only, you get to pay the next round."_

_It was Lee's turn to pay anyway, so he just shrugged and got to his feet, waiting until the room had stopped spinning to make his way to the bar, being very careful to walk in a straight line—and, judging from the bartender's amused expression, failing miserably. _

_He did manage not to spill too much ambrosia on his way back to their table, where Zak and Kara were looking at him with fascination. _

_"How does he do that?" Zak asked to no one in particular. "I don't think I could even stand at this point."_

_"Easy," Kara said, parroting Lee's words. "He puts one foot in front of the other, and there he is, walking. Like an old lady."_

_Lee resisted the urge to stick out his tongue at her. He was determined to take the high road—as if such a thing mattered when dealing with Kara._

_"So," he said, taking a swig of alcohol and smiling in satisfaction—this bar really was the best of Caprica—"Where were we?"_

_"We were getting drunk and discussing music, politics, philosophy and life," Kara said, raising her glass in his direction. Her hair shone in the light, her smile was bright as she looked at him and Zak, and Lee thought, not for the first time, that that smile made it worth putting up with her bad days, her anger, her bitterness and everything she kept throwing at him._

_"Cool, let's do that again."_

_Zak let his head drop on the table. "I'm dead," he moaned._

_Lee and Kara looked at each other and started to laugh. "Poor thing," Kara said, mock-compassionately._

_"Young people these days," Lee said, making sure his brother heard him. "No stamina."_

_Zak gave him the finger without raising his head, Kara laughed and Lee allowed himself to relax in his chair. Life was good._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Kara was dead.

Her body was slack, her face expressionless, her eyes still open on nothing.

Kara was a Cylon.

Kara was probably downloading into another body right now.

Would she know? Would she remember what had happened? Would she be one of the reluctant Cylons, like Sharon, or would she embrace her new life?

His best friend had been a Cylon all along.

They had laughed, kissed, driven one another insane and loved each other.

He had allowed her to touch him in every possible way.

He had allowed her into his life, into his family.

He wanted to die so he wouldn't have to live with that anymore, so he wouldn't have to fight to get over her.

The only reason why he started to drag himself across the floor, painful inch by painful inch, instead of surrendering to the darkness, was because he didn't think his father would survive losing them both.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_"That was great!" Kara yelled, clapping Lee's shoulder so hard he stumbled._

_"Thanks," he said, wondering if he was going to get another bruise out of this. Kara sure packed a punch. _

_"No, really, that was one neat piece of flying, Apollo!" _

_It wasn't every day that the almighty Starbuck praised someone's flying besides her own and Lee allowed the words to sink in, committing them to memory. He'd need them later, when she turned insufferable again._

_"So, wanna go celebrate tonight?" Her eyes were as bright as her smile when she looked up at him._

_He chuckled. "You just never miss an occasion, do you?"_

_"Nope," she replied, smirking, already sure that he would go to the bar with her—when had he ever been able to turn her down?_

_For once, she seemed carefree—as she usually did when she was flying or when she had just touched ground. Soon, he knew, her demons would rear their heads again, calling for her attention, and she'd become the annoying bitch she could sometimes be._

_He didn't mind. He liked seeing her happy, liked seeing her laughing with him, with Zak, but even when she was at her pissy worst, he still enjoyed her company._

_She was the best friend he had ever had, she challenged him like no one else, and there were days when he prayed to gods he didn't believe in that he'd never lose that friendship._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lee had no idea what had activated her. He was sure she had been dormant up until the moment they had entered this storage room, though.

He had seen something click in her eyes. Lee had heard people say that seeing a Cylon being activated was probably like seeing a switch being turned on, but he didn't agree. It was a lot more like a door closing on the human inside, and another door opening.

He had seen that small flicker, almost imperceptible. The only reason he had even noticed was that he knew her so well. For a fraction of second, she hadn't looked like Kara anymore.

It had been his only warning before she had lunged at him with a knife.

And just like that, his best friend had been gone, replaced by a machine hell bent on killing him.

Lee had been pissed as hell at the Cylons before, had even hated Boomer—who had betrayed them all, who had shot his father point blank, without reason—but never before had he felt this all-consuming hatred, this thirst for vengeance.

He used the anger to keep him going a few more inches, then stopped, gasping. He rested his head on the floor. He couldn't go any farther. It felt like he had spent years at it already, and he hadn't even reached the halfway point. He was shivering, covered in cold sweat, and he was leaving a trail of blood behind him and frak but it _hurt_.

Out of nowhere, a picture jumped in his mind—his father's face at Zak's funeral. Lee had tried very hard to forget about that day; only the fight that had followed the ceremony still remained clear in his memory. But apparently, his brain had decided to store the information away for later.

How had he managed to forget the pain etched on his father's features?

A part of him—the part that would forever remain a resentful, insecure, angry teenager—wondered if his father would feel as bad about his death as he had felt about Zak's. Then, shame set in. No matter what their differences might be, he didn't doubt that his father loved him, not anymore.

He swallowed, took another look at the faraway phone, gritted his teeth on the groan that wanted to escape. Then, he started crawling again.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_"Zak says he's going to enroll into flight school," Kara said as she and Lee were soaking in the sun on the beach. It was their last day of freedom before their next assignment in space, and they had decided to make the most of it._

_"Yes," Lee replied. It was no secret that he'd have preferred his brother did something safer, something that wasn't so likely to get him killed. Of course, Lee himself didn't think about the danger when he flew—only about the fact that he was good at it, only about the fact that it was exhilarating and thrilling, almost addictive. It was only now that his brother had decided to join the army that Lee also saw how damn dangerous it was._

_"Don't sound so enthusiastic." _

_Lee didn't reply, his eyes drawn to the figure of his brother, who was running along the shore, speeding up and slowing down at random intervals, obviously enjoying himself._

_"Look, I know you're worried about him, but I'm sure he'll be a good pilot."_

_She didn't remind Lee that it was in his blood. He had heard that argument too many times already._

_His mother was pissed at them both—seeing them follow in their father's footsteps made her feel like she had lost some kind of long-standing contest with her ex-husband. Lee had tried, time and again, to explain that it wasn't about the army, that he just wanted, _needed_, to fly, but all she saw was the uniform he put on. Ah, well, it wasn't the first time she was pissed at him. He would survive, as would Zak._

_"He's worried about you, the same way you're worried about him." Kara wasn't letting go. Of course, she wasn't. She was too bull-headed for that. _

_"I know."_

_"He looks up to you a great deal."_

_That was precisely what bothered Lee. He didn't want his brother to feel like he had anything to prove, either to their father or to him. He couldn't shake the feeling that Zak was choosing flight school for all the wrong reasons, and he had seen what happened to the pilots who didn't put their whole heart into what they were doing._

_He didn't want his brother to die because he had made the wrong choice. _

_Kara added, seemingly unaware of his uneasiness, "Besides, the more you try to dissuade him, the more he'll want to do it."_

_Lee nodded. Stubbornness was another thing that ran in all Adamas' blood._

_Kara put her hand on his arm and he turned to look at her. "Don't worry so much. It'll be fine."_

_The words sounded like a promise. Lee trusted Kara enough to believe it._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lee was still flat on the floor, panting, but at least, he had reached the wall.

He had tried his best not to think about the second part of the plan as he was making his way to here, but now, he couldn't avoid it anymore. He was going to need to get to his knees to reach the phone.

He swallowed, took a shallow breath. The pain wasn't so bad anymore, but Lee didn't think that was a good sign. The shivering was even worse now than it had been when he had first woken up, the trembling so bad that he had to clench his teeth to stop them from chattering.

He needed to move. He wasn't going to stay conscious much longer, and if he passed out, he was going to die before anyone found him.

Gathering his resolve, he slowly pushed himself into a sitting position. The whole room started to spin around him and he waited for it to pass, hoping he wasn't going to lose consciousness now—not after all that, not when the goal was so near he could almost touch it.

Once he didn't feel so much on the verge of passing out anymore, he dragged himself to his knees, clinging to the wall for support, and reached up to take a hold of the phone.

"Medical team needed to storage room fifteen," he said, his breath coming in short gasps. He heard a click on the line, repeated, "Medical team to storage room fifteen," then stopped fighting and allowed himself to fall back to the ground.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_Lee's reflexes probably saved his life. When Kara came at him with the knife, aiming at his throat, he took a step back and raised his hand in front of himself. _

_The knife went straight through the hand._

_For a split second, he stared at it dumbly, surprised that it didn't hurt more—the way the knife was protruding on both sides of the hand, he should have felt _something_. Then, Kara jerked the knife back out, and a scream tore out of Lee's throat. _

_"What—?"_

_She looked at him, her eyes frighteningly blank. Then, she raised the knife again and struck at his face. He caught her wrist and twisted, hard, his hand pulsing with every movement. The knife fell to the ground with a metallic clang. _

_They stared at each other for a beat, then she kicked at him, surprising him enough that he released her._

_"What are you doing?" he asked, even though he knew. He had seen it, however briefly. _

_Another dormant Cylon had just been awoken._

_Lee couldn't believe it. Boomer had made sense, in a way—she was always so controlled, so perfect. But Kara had always struck him as deeply human, probably because of her flaws and her frakked up attitude._

_She punched him, her fist landing square on his jaw, and he took a few steps back, dazed. He saw her move to the knife and kicked it away from them both._

_"Kara," he tried._

_She punched him again, so fast he barely saw it coming._

_He swallowed painfully. _

_What was he supposed to say? _

Fight it?

This is me, and you. Don't do that?

_Nothing he could say would change anything._

_Most of the fight was a blur—Kara had always hit hard. Now, at least, Lee knew why, and it made him smile a little through the pain and the adrenaline and the shock. Seemed like Kara's freakish aim and strength had come from somewhere special after all._

_He remembered her hitting him, he remembered hitting back, as hard as he could._

_He remembered them both falling to the ground._

_He didn't remember her stabbing him—only a flash of pain, quickly followed by numbness. _

_He remembered the frantic grappling for the weapon._

_He remembered, with painful clarity, stabbing her. The way her eyes widened, the way life left them, swiftly, neatly. A few seconds of pain, followed by emptiness._

_And the quiet after the battle._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lee spent most of his first two days in sickbay staring at the ceiling, ignoring everyone who came to see him, only replying when Cottle or one of the nurses asked him how he felt and whether or not he needed more pain meds. They didn't ask about what had happened in the storage room and he didn't volunteer information.

He only told what happened once, when Tigh came in to ask for his report. Tigh took notes, his face betraying nothing, nodded and left when they were done on a flat, "Get well soon, Major."

Dee came by to see him, kissed him softly, said, "I love you." She didn't try to ask him how he felt or what happened. He allowed her to entwine their fingers and he squeezed her hand to hold her back when she tried to go.

She stayed with him through the night, neither of them saying a word.

He couldn't muster the energy for words, and it wasn't like he had anything to say.

All he could think about was Kara, and all the times he had been intimate with her, all the times he had confided in her, all the times he had trusted her, all the times he had told himself that their friendship would last forever.

On the third day, he woke up to find his father sitting next to his bed, hands over his face.

On impulse, he said, "I'm sorry," his voice hoarse.

His father looked up, and Lee was startled to realize that his eyes were too bright. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen his father cry—not even at Zak's funeral.

"Lee?"

"I'm sorry," he repeated, ruthlessly forcing the words out. "I know you loved her." _Like a daughter_. His father had lots of sons and daughters on the Galactica, but he was closest to some of them.

His father nodded, his face hard. "Yes, I did. But honestly, Lee, I'll survive losing… her." He hadn't used her name, Lee noticed. And there was an edge in his father's voice that said he felt just as betrayed as Lee did. "I don't think…"

Lee nodded when his father trailed off, hearing the implied, "I'd rather lose her than you."

"She had a knife," he said. _I wonder why she didn't use a gun, like Boomer when she tried to kill you._

Knifes were more personal. More intimate.

"Cottle says it was close," his father said.

Lee tried to meet his eyes, tried to smile, but couldn't get his lips to move the right way.

"You should rest."

"She'll be back," Lee said, ignoring him.

At least, the Kara they'd see again wouldn't be the girl they had known—the girl Lee had kissed and made love to, the girl his father had hugged and praised and welcomed into the family.

That one was dead, and maybe it was more merciful that way.

"We'll be ready," his father said with all the confidence of a life long command officer.

_We'll never be ready enough_, Lee wanted to say. _How could we?_ He closed his eyes, suddenly exhausted.

But then, his father's hand squeezed his shoulder softly and Lee heard a murmured, "I'm sorry for your loss, son," and he thought that hopefully, as long as they had each other, they'd manage to deal with whatever the Cylons threw at them.

* * *

end 


	4. Part 4

**Title** : Four Times Lee Adama Almost (But Not Quite) Died

**Author** : Helen C.

**Rating** : PG-13

**Summary** : See title. A series of four unrelated, unashamedly H/C, AU ficlets.

**Disclaimer** : The characters and the universe were created and are owned by Ronald D. Moore and Universal Television Studios to name but a few. No money is being made. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**AN**. Many thanks to joey51 and Mick1997 for their work on this one.

**AN2**. I'm usually not against constructive criticism, but I really, really like this one. So, if you don't (if, for some reason, you think it doesn't work), please, lie to me.

* * *

Time # 4

Lee closed his eyes, his grip on the stick tightening.

"Galactica, Apollo. I repeat, I'm losing altitude and power. I—"

He stopped when he heard the static over the comm.. He was busy crashing on an unexplored, potentially hostile planet, and it seemed that his only lifeline with the Fleet had just given up on him. Wonderful.

"Galactica, Apollo. Do you copy?"

Nothing but static.

He tried, again, to regain control of the ship. The last blast had taken out his thrusters and with them, most of his manoeuvrability. He had entered the planet's atmosphere and there was no way he was going to be able to land his bird.

"Galactica, Apollo."

He swallowed nervously as his Viper continued spinning. All of his muscles were strained as he tried to control something, anything—_anything_ had to be better than just sitting here, in nine tons of metal, on a crash course with the ground.

"I'm gonna have to eject soon," he finished. "See you, guys." _I hope._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He remembered Kara's voice as his bird fell. How resigned, how peaceful she sounded as she headed to what she knew was going to be her death. How it seemed like she had found peace at long last, accepted her destiny.

Lee had never believed in destiny, in prophecy or in the gods. He knew most people assumed he did, because he had followed Roslin when she claimed she had visions, but most people were wrong.

He was a die-hard atheist, a fact that had greatly bothered Kara in the early days of their acquaintance.

"How can you live without believing that there are gods watching over you?"

"How can you live thinking that the gods decide your fate and that you don't have a say in it?" he had shot back, with all the certainty only a nineteen-year-old could muster.

They had glared at each other and not spoken for over a week, and that had pretty much defined their relationship; they were as different as night and day, the only thing uniting them was their love of flying, and, he might as well admit it, it was also what had driven them apart.

He had allowed her to fly when he doubted she was ready and she had died. In turn, her death had pretty much taken all the joy out of flying as far as he was concerned.

Maybe that was why his attention had slipped for two seconds.

Maybe that was why he had been hit.

Maybe that was why he was going to die.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Galactic Fleet, Apollo," he called. "Does anyone copy?"

He didn't expect an answer and didn't get any.

He had gone through the simulations on how to survive these kinds of spinning dives but had never been through it for real. In hindsight, he was glad for the training. He had barfed for half an hour the first time but at least now he was prepared and he knew what to expect and how to react.

_Keep thinking._

_If you let panic win, you're dead._

He gave the stick one final push, found it as unresponsive as it had been since he had been hit and swore.

_Survival is all about buying time. Have a long term plan if you can, but if not, just keep breathing for the next minute, and the next, and the next. _

_Every minute you breathe is a minute you win._

"Galactica, Apollo. Do you copy?"

No response.

He took a deep breath, checked his altimeter and sent a brief prayer to whoever might be listening—was Kara laughing right now? If she had still been alive, she would have had a field day with this.

_Fall asleep at the wheel, Apollo?_ she'd say.

_Don't panic._

He pulled the ejection handle.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_Was Zak scared when he died? _Lee wondered as he floated to the ground.

There probably hadn't been time for that. It had happened so fast… Maybe going out in a ball of fire had been more merciful. _What do you think, Kara? Blowing up with your ship, or falling to the ground? Make your choice._

Had his brother had one last thought? Anything beyond, "Frak!"? Had he thought that he hadn't expected that when he had woken up in the morning? Had he thought about Lee, about their father, about their mom? About Kara?

_See, Kara? All the Adama men think about you when they're dying. How flattered are you?_

He could almost hear her cut-the-crap voice. _You're not dying, so stop whining and pay attention to what you're doing._

She would have been a terror as a survival instructor in War College.

_Did your brains turn to mush when you were hit? Focus, damn it, Apollo._

"Hey, you know what they say," he called out. "It's not the fall that matters." He laughed a little crazily.

_You've gone stark raving mad. Great._

He laughed some more, his descent seeming to take forever. Maybe this was what death was, he reflected. Waiting to hit the ground.

He definitely would have preferred an explosion.

"Wouldn't it have been fitting, Kara?" he asked as the ground drew nearer, still smiling through the fear. "You, Zak and me, all gone in a fiery ball of light."

_Oh, for…_

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He came to slowly, tangled up in the parachute.

He was painfully thirsty, he had landed on hard rock—apparently, there wasn't much but hard rock around—and everything hurt. Judging by the sun's position, he had probably been out for hours and he was still alone—well, alone with Kara, who was crouching next to him, frowning in concern.

Damn. Apparently, he hadn't managed to sleep through the hard part. Too bad; he wouldn't have minded waking up in a warm bed in sickbay, considering.

"Is that what it was like for you, when you crashed on that moon?" he asked Kara.

_No. _She looked at him gently. _I knew you were out there looking for me._

"My father must be out there looking for me." But he wasn't here yet, and since the battle against the Cylons had been raging when Lee had been hit, rescue was probably going to take a while coming. It would be here eventually, he told himself. He refused to believe anything else.

_Yes. He is. But you're gonna have to help yourself a little, just like I did._

"I know." He still didn't move. "Do you think I'm insane because I talk to you?"

She shrugged. _Hey, Baltar talked to himself a lot._

"Yeah." He closed his eyes, snapped them open again. "That's not very reassuring."

She didn't reply and when Lee looked around, she was nowhere to be seen.

If he had to hallucinate, couldn't his brain at least make his surroundings a little more comfortable?

_You're gonna have to help yourself._

Right.

He needed to get rid of that parachute, see if the air was breathable, find shelter, try to contact the Fleet. All of which would require moving.

He tried to struggle to his feet, and that was his second mistake of the day.

His own scream was deafening under the helmet, and he blacked out.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Adama, in full Admiral mode, stormed into the CIC. "What do we know?"

"He was hit shortly before the last civilian ship jumped, Sir," Helo started. "We tried to reach him but his comm. must have been damaged."

"Or he was… incapacitated," Tigh threw in.

"From what I saw, the canopy held out," Helo said immediately. "So there's a good chance he was still alive."

Bill didn't bother replying to either of them. "What else?"

"Hotdog's the last one who saw Apollo's Viper. He was on a collision course with the planet." Helo met Adama's eyes for the first time since he had started his report. "He's studying possible crash sites with Racetrack now, Sir. But I think he probably ejected and—"

"And we don't know anything about the conditions on the planet," Adama concluded. "So, we won't be able to speculate where he could have landed."

Helo nodded, his face grim. Tigh looked at Adama. "Talk to me again when you have the potential crash sites," he ordered. "In the meantime, send a Raptor back there, on the opposite side of the planet. See if there's still Cylon activity."

Helo snapped a salute and went off.

"It's taking a big risk," Tigh said.

"We'll evaluate the danger before launching the SAR mission," Bill replied. "But we're not leaving one of our men behind if we can help it."

_If it was anyone but my son, we wouldn't even be having this discussion._

Saul nodded and followed Helo.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"You know, when I said your pain was my entertainment? I didn't mean it," Lee said, blinking back tears of pain.

_Wuss,_ she replied affectionately, and he gasped a laugh as he rested his head on the ground. His fifth stop in half an hour and he had only managed to crawl about forty meters.

He had left the parachute behind, had tried his comm. and found it mute, had spotted what looked like a cave, about two hundred meters from where he was and set out to reach it before the clouds gathering in the sky unleashed rain on him.

It would have gone faster without the broken leg—a compound fracture, no less, that was still seeping blood despite the makeshift bandages Lee had wrapped around it (using pieces of his undershirt and throwing up twice in the process) and that was probably getting infected as he rested.

_The day isn't getting any younger, _Kara pointed out.

"Shut up," he said tiredly. "You're just a frakking hallucination anyway. You don't get to kick my ass."

_No,_she admitted, and it crossed his mind that he would rather have heard her argue the point. Kara was dead and wasn't coming back. Apparently, even the one in his head knew that. _But when your father finds out you didn't do everything you could to survive, that you sat on your ass and _whined,_he sure is going to kick it good._

She had a point, so Lee started to crawl again, biting back a scream.

Damn. Even getting shot hadn't hurt that much.

_Nothing _had ever hurt that much.

_I'm just in your head, you know. I won't think any less of you if you yell every once in a while, and it might make you feel better._

Stubbornly, he clenched his teeth.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When he reached the cave, night was falling. Rain was falling too, had started to about twenty minutes earlier.

He was freezing despite the flight suit. His whole leg felt like it was on fire, and that couldn't be a good sign.

_But you're still breathing,_ Kara pointed out from the rock where she was sitting. _And you reached your goal._

"Today a cave, tomorrow the world," he replied, and they both laughed.

It felt good, and it distracted him from more sinister thoughts.

It had been hours since the attack and the Fleet didn't seem to be back. Lee tried very hard not to think about what it meant—maybe the Cylons were still around, making it impossible to send a SAR mission. Maybe the Fleet assumed he had died when his Viper had been hit. Maybe the Fleet had to deal with other problems before coming back. Maybe—

_I was scared too, you know._

"I'm not scared," Lee replied, mostly out of habit. Unbidden, Romo's voice came to him._Serial contrarian._

Kara snorted. _Boy, did he have your number…_

"Shut up," he said, but he was smiling too. The smile faded as he watched the rain falling. He shivered, clenched his teeth when the motion sent daggers of pain all through his body. "I'm not scared," he repeated.

_Sure, you are. It's okay._

He shivered again, frozen to the bone. "Talk to me," he said, closing his eyes.

_About what?_

"Anything."

For a moment, he couldn't hear her anymore, and his heart rate picked up. What if she had left? Then, she said, laughter in her voice, _Oh, remember the time we got Zak drunk and managed to convince him to strip, and his instructor was at the bar?_

He laughed shakily, wrapping his arms around himself to try to save some heat.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Did it hurt to die?" he asked, studying his surroundings in the dimming light—not that there was much to see, but it gave him the impression that he was doing something.

_How the hell would I know? I'm in your head, remember? Besides, you died once, so you should know._

His hands were shaking. He tried to rub them, even though he knew it had little to do with the cold.

_So?_ Kara asked. _Did it hurt?_

Lee shot a look outside (still no sign of the Cylons. Maybe they had left, then. The night was falling, so that meant no one would come for him before morning at the earliest, but he could wait until then) trying to remember those endless moments floating in space. "No," he eventually said.

She nodded as if she expected it. _My Viper exploded_, she said, and she looked sad—sadder than he had ever seen her. _It was quick, Lee._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was hard not to think about everything that might happen, alone in the dark. It was hard not to wonder if the Fleet was looking for him, hard not to wonder whether or not they'd be back in time. Hard not to wonder what would happen to his leg, even if they did.

Would he be able to fly again?

Would he be allowed to?

Did he_want_ to?

"Talk to me," he said, again.

_What am I, your personal entertainer for the evening?_ Kara asked, her tone typically stubborn and reluctant.

He didn't insist, didn't waste more energy trying to convince her. She must have sensed he needed to hear her voice. _Your father will find you._

"If it's possible, yes," Lee said. But what if it wasn't? What if—?

_Stop talking like that. He'll find you and that's it._

"Right." He shifted, mindful of his leg, and grimaced. Hard rock really didn't make a comfortable place to sleep. "Remember when I said the Bucket wasn't nearly as comfortable as the Atlantia, and that I missed my ship?"

_No, _she said. _You never said anything about missing your ship. We never talked about life before the attacks, remember?_

"Oh." He shrugged. "Well, anyway, I wouldn't mind being on the Galactica right now."

_I know. Me neither._

_We wouldn't mind having you back,_ he thought. _We miss you. I miss you._

_I know, _she said.

His last thought before he fell asleep was, _Wait, did I say that out loud?_

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The situation didn't seem any better in the cold light of dawn.

His pulse was too quick and he still couldn't stop shivering.

_Yeah, you're running a fever, _Kara said helpfully. Her tone was light but he saw the concern in her eyes. _His_Kara hadn't been like that. Her concern hadn't been so obvious. She had been too repressed, too stubborn to allow it to show.

_Hey, you made me up, remember. Your subconscious must be a very strange place, Apollo._

He glared at her, then at his leg. "What do you think it looks like?" She didn't answer and he sighed. "I know, I know, you're in my head."

He didn't want to look.

He_really_ didn't want to look.

_You don't have a choice._

"I know that." It couldn't be worse than yesterday, when he had cut off the flight suit around it and seen the break for the first time.

It wouldn't be worse than yesterday.

_You suck at giving yourself pep-talks._

"I know. That's why I have you." He reached for the soaked, dirty, bloodied bandages, wondering what Cottle would say to this. He peeled it off his leg and swallowed at the sight of the white bone piercing the skin.

The cave was starting to swim in front of his eyes and he barely managed to turn his head before he threw up, his empty stomach spasming painfully enough that he couldn't hold back a moan.

_Aren't you glad you didn't eat yesterday?_ Kara asked and Lee laughed, hard.

"Yeah," he eventually said.

_Maybe you shouldn't have looked at it._

"I thought I didn't have a choice," he retorted.

_Yes. Well, maybe you shouldn't have listened to me, then._

"You're insane, you know that, right?"

_You're an asshole, you know that, right? Also, I'm not the one having a discussion with a hallucination, so…_

He smiled and went back to examining his leg. It was hard to be sure, considering what a mess it was, but he thought he saw red lines seeping in every direction from the wound.

"Thanks, by the way," he said. How much longer did he have before the infection spread too far? How much longer before the rescue came? "For staying last night." Would anyone come, or had he been left behind—yet another pilot missing in action, presumed dead?

_What are friends for? _she replied, crouching next to him, her hand on his arm.

"I hate waiting," he said. How much longer until his leg was lost?

_I know._

"I hate knowing there's nothing I can do." How much longer until the fever killed him?

_There is something you can do, and you're doing it right now. Find shelter, dress your wounds—you might want to wrap a fresh bandage around that leg, by the way—and stay alive. _

"Bossy, are we?" He started struggling out of his flight suit again.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"I hate waiting," Bill whispered.

"We know," Saul replied.

There was nothing else they could do. The rescue op was well under way; several Raptors were patrolling the planet. One of them had reported a crash site already, but from what they could see, the crew thought that the seat was missing. So, there was a good chance that Lee had indeed, ejected—and good thing too, according to the report. There wasn't much left of the Viper.

Now, it was just a matter of finding Lee.

Bill refused to listen to the small voice whispering that it was very much akin to searching for a needle in a hay sack. They'd find his son, because any other option was just too much to contemplate. It didn't matter that Lee could be anywhere. It didn't matter that the comms. were useless on the planet—interference from the mineral deposits in the ground, according to Helo.

They'd find Lee. Period.

"We'll find him," Saul said, echoing his thoughts.

_Empty reassurances, now, Saul? You don't even believe what you say, do you?_

Saul couldn't meet his eyes and Bill went back to waiting, wishing he was with the pilots looking for his son, instead of here.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_So, what are you going to do once you get back on the Galactica? _

Lee shot her an incredulous look. "I'm thinking get stuck in sickbay for a few weeks," he replied.

_Such a lack of imagination._

"Yeah, well, all the imagination in the world isn't going to save my ass if rescue doesn't arrive soon." He closed his eyes. "I'm not getting any better, Kara."

_They'll be here._

"How can you be so sure?"

_I can see them approaching the cave._

"What?"

"Major?"

Lee turned to the sound, blinking as two figures appeared at the entrance of the cave.

Then, one of them stepped in and Lee breathed a sigh of relief. "Helo?" He barely refrained from asking if he was hallucinating him as well. He didn't want a psych evaluation on top of everything else when he got back to the Galactica.

"Yeah." Helo crouched next to him, grimaced when he saw his leg. "Broken?"

"Yeah." Lee closed his eyes again. _I'm not feeling so good. _

"I'll get the stretcher," the other pilot—Stinger, it had to be Stinger—said from the entrance to the cave.

"We'll get you out of here in no time, Major," Helo promised.

Lee opened his eyes and looked around, but Kara was nowhere to be found.

"Major?" Helo put a hand on his arm. "I'd ask how you're doing, but…"

"Yeah," he replied distractedly. His vision was getting fuzzy, and the pain in his leg seemed to be growing worse with each breath he took. "Painkillers would be good," he said with a grimace. His own voice sounded like it was coming from underwater, muffled and distorted.

He spotted the grimace of sympathy on Helo's face. "I know."

He heard footsteps getting closer and allowed his eyes to drift shut.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Cottle had to wait two days for the infection to clear before bringing him into surgery. By the time Lee was starting to feel coherent enough to notice who was with him in the room, it was time to go under anaesthesia for several hours. He realized he hadn't seen Kara since the cave. Apparently, he only saw her when he was alone and delirious on a deserted planet.

"How do you feel?" his father asked him shortly before the surgery, the first time Lee could remember seeing him since the crash.

"Crap," Lee summed up, and his father smiled sadly.

"It'll get better, eventually," he said.

Lee nodded, too drained to reply.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When he truly regained consciousness again, two days later, drugged to the gills, his father was still in the room, talking to Cottle. For a fleeting moment, Lee wondered if he had even left at all.

"Lee," his father said when he saw him staring in his direction.

"Hey," he said.

"How do you feel?" Cottle asked. "Any pain?"

"No." Seeing Cottle's sober face, Lee amended his answer, "Not yet."

Cottle nodded. "We'll keep it manageable," he said, medical talk for, "It's gonna hurt like hell for a while, but you won't pass out from it." Then he retreated.

"He says your leg will probably recover completely, with time," his father offered. "It was bad, but it'll be fine."

"Yeah," Lee said. _Did it hurt when you had to stop flying, Dad? I don't feel anything at all. I thought I would, but I don't._

"You'll probably be able to pilot again," his father added.

"That's a lot of probablies." He met his father's eyes. "Come on, Dad. That was my last time piloting a Viper and we both know it."

_I got hit because I lost my nerve. It takes a special kind of insanity to pilot a Viper, and I lost it and if I head into battle again in a Viper, I'll kill myself, or someone else. You know that. You've had to ground pilots before. _

His father hesitated. "Are you sure that's what you want?"

_No, it's not what I want. It's what needs to be done._

His father nodded. "All right."

Lee had been wrong. It did hurt. He swallowed and looked up at the ceiling, suddenly feeling like a piece of him had been torn away. _Tell me there's more to life than flying,_ he silently pleaded.

His father patted his shoulder awkwardly. "I should go and let you sleep." He spun on his heels and headed out. Just as he was reaching the privacy screen, he stopped and turned back to Lee. "You'll probably be stuck with a desk job for a while," he said. "So you have time. Try to think about what you might want to do, son. Command, training, teaching the new recruits… You have choices."

"Thanks," Lee said, feeling dizzy and breathless, like he had just run a race. "We'll talk more later."

Then, Lee was alone again.

_See, things did turn out all right in the end,_ Kara said, startling him.

_Yes, they did. _

_I'm always right._

_No, you're not._

_Asshole._

_Freak._

He fell asleep with a smile on his lips.

* * *

end 


End file.
